


No Longer Another Body

by Quillaninc



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trowa reflects after rescuing Heero at New Edwards</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Longer Another Body

**Author's Note:**

> GW500 Challenge Community on LJ. Challenge #90 - bullet holes

I never imagined there'd be a day when I'd wish to see bullet holes.

At an age where others are still merely kids, I've seen and done more things than some of the most jaded mercenaries I've come across. I feel ancient, some days, trapped in a soulless place far outside time. As far back as I can remember, I've seen things like this. Hell! I've done most of them, too.

Broken bones, broken bodies, broken souls, broken minds - they've all become one and the same to me. Many a time I've looked a man directly in the eyes moments before my bullet shatters the space between them, and not flinched. I've broken arms, legs, necks with equal disregard. A corpse is just a corpse to me, whether or not it slipped away in peaceful sleep, choked briefly on a knife or some poison before surrendering, or is picked up part by part - they all go into the ground the same way.

Except this one. I hope - God, for the first time I can remember, I _pray_, not this one!

He was just another body, or so I'd thought. Another comrade to ensure was not left to rot on enemy ground. There was one thing different about him, though.

He lived.

I've sat here, day after day while the noise of the circus filters in from all around the caravan, watching his white strapped chest rise and fall, hypnotised by the motion. Occasionally, it falters, and so does my heartbeat, and I can't explain why. When the fever rises in his shattered body, my hands are shaking as they cool him with a cloth dipped into the bowl of water I keep nearby, and I don't know which disturbs me more. I'm afraid to sleep, and I'm shaken to the core by the fact that, for the first time, I'm unable to bring my own body under my complete control.

But when I unwrap the bandages, that's when it's the worst. And I wish for simple bullet holes.


End file.
